Mistress Series: Darkness In His Eyes – Anjali

I woke up in those passion stained sheets feeling like I was wrapped up in the silk essence of him. I laid there with the sheets in between my thighs that he called the golden gates of paradise the night before and watched this devilishly handsomely carved gentleman pull up his Army cargo pants with the sun reflecting off his shadow. He kept smirking at me replaying how I rolled my hips around his powerful thrust and how far my legs stretched over and around him. And finally the eruption between us that caused us both to look into each other’s soul’s windows and say I love you. He jumped up, packed his duffel bag and kissed me goodbye, assuring that he would contact me as much as he could from Iraq. There was always some kind of mystery about this honorable man who made me fall deeply in love with him. He always had something I could discover about his mind, body, and spirit. The one thing I never knew was that his biggest secret was me. My name is Anjali, and I was fool, I was a victim, I was a mistress.

My sweet sweet Jolie is what Marquis always called me in my ear after we made love or our brief chats online. We met in a military outreach group that my company organized as a patriotic tax write off. My fellow mental health colleagues and I were to check for potential signs of PTSD and help ease the minds of our brave soldiers overseas. I was assigned the name DocAnj and he went by LTMAW (Lieutenant Marquis A. Washington). At first it was just simple boring cordial chatter and words of encouragement, then one day he opened up to me about his life outside of war.

LTMAW: I know you are just doing this as part of a program but I feel like I can talk to you.

DocAnj: You can.

LTMAW: I almost died a few months ago. There was an IED…roadside bomb that took out about half of my men. And the woman who I was dating just brushed it off and told me to stop being a bitch about it. She said I needed to lead now and cry later. Does that sound like a woman who cares about me?

DocAnj: No. Not at all. But she may have just been trying to keep your head on straight so you didn’t get lost in emotions.

LTMAW: Do you care about me?

DocAnj: …I care that you’re healthy and alive.

LTMAW: So you care about me?

DocAnj: Yea. I guess I do.

Our exchanges became more involved and intense with every twisted word from his sweet lips. He would tell me about his family, funny things that other soldiers had done, and most annoyingly how much his ex pissed him off. Even though we had never laid eyes on each other we would laugh, cry, and pray together like we had been together for years. I knew he was keeping some things from me, but I chose not pry. Within three months I finally felt comfortable enough to tell him that I wanted something more than just talking. He had been waiting for me to insist on a relationship for months and was elated that I finally asked him to be with me. I had never felt comfortable enough to open up to a man. I guess being without a father and a mother when she was occupied with her latest boyfriend, made me really question what the point of love was.

About a month before he came back on leave he found a webcam and called me on Skype. When his face popped up on the screen my heart stopped and an uncontrollable smile blanketed in tears overcame my face. He touched the screen and whispered beautiful then told me he was coming home and to meet him in Chicago. I agreed and decided to give him a taste of what was waiting for him on the mainland.

I wiped my tears and focused the camera on my blue lace negligee then opened my legs and gently stroked the purr button of my wet luscious cat. In between my moans I would flip the camera up and blow him a kiss, taste my juice and declared that it was all his. His face was nearly coming through the screen until I heard him grunt and his gift was flying all over the camera. We stared into each other’s eyes sweaty and satisfied, then smiled and counted the days until he got home.

We met at the Omni Hotel and it seemed like everything played out like a movie. The world around us stopped as we ran into each other’s arms and he swung me around in the air. We damn near skipped to the elevator and he explained that he thought it would be nice to have a mini getaway as our first official date. We couldn’t stop kissing each other and people were getting off before their floors just to avoid us. When we got to the 5th floor he looked in my eyes and posed a challenge to make me scream before we hit the 25th floor. My grin said yes before my lips could and he lifted me up, threw me up against the back of the elevator, and stroked my walls deep and fast demanding my moans. By the time we hit the 20th floor my legs, his pants, and my walls were soaked…and he got his scream. He laughed and said, good this is our floor.

Between meals, movies, and making love we laid laughed and talked about different things happening in our lives like we always did. I felt so complete to have found a friend and lover that I could trust in just six short months. At about 3 am he woke me up and held out his fist then told me to choose a hand. So I picked the right hand and when he opened it his dog tags were inside. I looked at him like ok…what is this for? He said that he had to wear this close to his heart the whole time he was at war and no one has ever held his heart like I did. Then he promised that one day I would hold it forever and flipped the dog tag to show a new one that had my name and his name imprinted on it.

We fell asleep and I could not stop replaying that moment in our relationship and fantasized about us being Mr. and Mrs. Marquis Washington. He got up the next morning, kissed me goodbye, and said that he needed to return to base before he went back. He was sorry to cut our time short, but he couldn’t wait to see me again. After he headed out the door I saw that he forgot his phone. So I jumped up, touched up my make-up, and headed downstairs for one final goodbye kiss. When I got there I saw him getting shoved and yelled at by a woman with a little boy. I ran up to him, handed him his phone and asked what the problem was.

‘You must be Anjali. I’m Carla…Washington…his wife.

Those words cut me to my core. My eyes glossed over as she explained that she had been intercepting Marquis emails and had seen every detail of our growing relationship. She knew that he was at the hotel with me, because he had the audacity to use their joint account to pay for it. She also knew that he didn’t tell me that he was married. Then she had the nerve to ask me if I came on the 15th, 20th, or 25th floor, because he made her cum on the 18th when they visited the same hotel 5 years before. Then the final nail in the coffin was this statement:

‘Thank you for opening your heart to me. It really gave me what I needed. What my wife could not give me. There will be someone who will love you the way I did or even better, because of the love you gave me. I hope you aren’t to hurt by this, but I have a son with my wife. So you see my heart could never really belong to you. I’m sorry.’

He turned away from me and walked out the door. I could have punched him, but I didn’t. I could have gotten his credit card information and ruined his financial life, but I didn’t. I could have reported his infidelity to the military and gotten him arrested, but I didn’t. I realized that all men are indeed the same. And love is an unnecessary trap that I could use to get what I want. There is power between my thighs that is stronger than any heartbeat. So for every honorable man like Marquis that would rot in the cell of marriage, I got something for them. Call it pathetic. Call it degrading. But I would rather live with a protective darkness in my heart than to see the weak light of love ever again. I am Anjali, a mistress.

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C.B. Fletcher is a public relations manager that has worked with domestic and international pr campaigns in the entertainment, fashion, hospitality, and literary industry. She continues to pursue independent projects and collaborations for events and growing businesses. As a contributing writer to Breath of Life Daily, Ms.Nix In The Mix, and The Urban Realist she has had the opportunity to feature intriguing and uplifting stories of people from around the country, as well as lend her perspective on risque and complicated subjects. She also has caught the directing bug in her first upcoming documentary about the journey of a woman fighting Mucoepidermoid carcinoma cancer; Some People Are Just (Un)Lucky. C.B. lives in Atlanta, GA and embraces the fulfilling love of her long term relationship and incredible family and friends. For more information on upcoming articles, films, and snippets from her upcoming books please visit www.facebook.com/CBFWorld.